


The Ways of Humans are Inscrutable: A Journal by Reaper the Cat.

by eledhiel13, Rochnariel



Series: Sign Your Life Away [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: welcome to rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhiel13/pseuds/eledhiel13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochnariel/pseuds/Rochnariel
Summary: Reaper the Cat may not understand the human slaves surrounding him, but he is constantly fascinated by them.





	1. home repairs are hard

**Author's Note:**

> This might make sense without reading Repeat After Me, but that is where Reaper the Cat originates and the original story in this universe. If you don't read that first, just know that its a modern AU where Gabe adopted Jesse and is currently a long term placement for Sombra. Reaper the Cat is a gift from Gabe to Sombra when she is bugging him about getting an animal. Peacekeeper is Jesse's dog.
> 
> This is going to be a series of one-shots that take place in that universe as told from Reaper's perspective. They're not going to be in any sort of chronological order (as much as that hurts Rochnariel's OCD soul) and take place at any point in this universe, including post Repeat After Me. In fact the first chapter is probably about a year, year and a half post the end of Repeat After Me.
> 
> Essentially, this is a place for us to tell all of the little stories and scenes that we talk about existing in this universe. And because we always need more Reaper the Cat.

Reaper contemplates his humans from his perch on the table. It’s only a somewhat acceptable elevation, but his choices in the loud room with the sharp things and the fire are limited. He would much prefer to perch on his main slave’s shoulders but the human is being obnoxiously uncooperative, sitting on the floor like that. Unacceptable.

And somewhat baffling. The only room where the humans tend to sit on the floor is the big one with all the soft furniture and the best perch ever, high atop the tall shelves full of fun things to knock over. This room is not a floor room. Reaper could write this off as one of the odd things main slave does from time to time, but even stranger is that his favorite human is sitting right there next to him.

They both have their backs to the island cabinets and are staring into another cabinet against the wall. There is an assortment of the tools that the scruffy dog-ally uses on occasion spread across the floor, looking like they’ve laid out by people who have no idea what they are for. The two of them have been there long enough that Reaper must investigate, so he jumps down and walks right over main slave’s knees to stick his head inside the cabinet. Before he can get too far in, he’s struck by the hideously unpleasant sensation of cold and wet on his paws but he’s yanked back out by gentle hands before he can even screech his displeasure, much less avoid the hands. 

He twists around and bites at the hand still holding him, not quite enough to draw blood but to remind the owner who’s in charge around here. But his favorite human just chuckles as she settles Reaper into her lap. Much better, nice and warm to chase off the memory of the hateful puddle. He rams his head into her chin in an aggressively affectionate head butt before flopping over to settle in. Favorite human runs her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ears with her sharp and colorful nails. Reaper purrs.

He joins his servants in staring at the wet and cold cabinet with its weirdly twisty pipe contents, wondering if they’re waiting for something to happen in there. Then favorite human says, “Call Jesse.”

“I’m not calling Jesse,” main slave snaps. Reaper looks over to confirm that he looks very annoyed. Satisfied that he still understands his human servants correctly, Reaper looks back at the cabinet. Why is it cold and wet? It wasn’t like that last time he pried one open and explored the insides. Reaper can agree this is a subpar development.

“We need a sink, Gabe. And you and I are not going figure out why it’s leaking. Call Jesse,” favorite human says, not missing a beat as she rubs Reaper’s ears. He purrs louder and earns main slave’s annoyed look turned in his direction.

“Can’t you just look it up? We can follow some videos to fix it, right?” main slave growls.

Reaper feels his human shift and looks up to see her leaning back to level a disbelieving stare at main slave. “Do you remember when we tried that with the toilet? Jesse laughed for an hour. Just cut out the middle step and call him now.”

“Why don’t you call him if you’re so insistent about it?” Main slave crosses his arms and scowls at favorite human. Reaper flips upside down in her lap and stretches a paw overhead to poke at his elbow. Main slave ignores him, annoying.

“It’s your house,” favorite human shrugs.

Main slave sighs. “It’s finals week. I’m not calling him.”

“What about Zenyatta?” 

“I’m pretty sure he’s at work,” main slave replies, slumping back against the counter.

Favorite human frowns at him. “Then where’s Genji?” Main slave shrugs and Reaper flips back over to knead thoughtfully at favorite human’s lap. He’s pretty sure that sound refers to the fun human with the fake grass on his head. And Reaper knows from firsthand experience that it’s fake. Disappointing. “Well,” favorite human says as she shifts. Reaper digs his claws lightly into her thighs, preparing to leap off at a moment’s notice. “I guess we’re going to be without a kitchen sink for a while. Hope you like washing your vegetables in the bathroom.”

“We’re not going to be without a sink. We can figure this out,” main slave grumbles. Favorite human settles back down at his tone so Reaper removes his claws.

“I don’t know—“ Favorite human cuts herself off as the harebrained hound comes barreling into the kitchen and hurdles over all three of them to reach the back door. Reaper springs up in surprise, causing favorite human to start swearing in Spanish. Ignoring her, Reaper hisses at the dog and hops up to settle on the relative safety of the island counter.

Then Reaper hears the back door open and finally understands why the dumb dog decided to take up Olympic level hurdling. He readies himself to attack the intruder if necessary, but then the yellow man walks inside. Reaper settles back on his haunches and starts grooming his face, to hide his excitement. Yellow man gives the best head rubs ever. Plus, showing him clear favoritism seems to annoy main slave, which is always entertaining.

Yellow man rounds the island, giving Reaper an absentminded pet as he goes, and comes upon favorite human and main slave still sitting on the floor. He crouches down next to them, wrapping an arm around main slave’s shoulders and kissing his cheek. “Why are you guys sitting on the floor staring at the sink?”

“Because it broke and Gabe won’t man up and call Jesse,” favorite human replies, resolutely not looking at the two of them as main slave returns yellow man’s gesture.

Then main slave sighs. “It’s leaking somewhere, and it’s finals week. I’m not calling Jesse.”

“Want me to take a look?” yellow man asks, already unwrapping his arm and sticking his head inside the nasty wet and cold cabinet. Reaper briefly considers pulling him back to save him from the cabinet but decides against it. 

“Jack, you don’t need—“ main slave starts but favorite human jabs him in the shoulder to cut him off.

“Yes, please!” she says to yellow man, who is twisting around to lay on his back with his head inside the cabinet. Reaper shudders at the thought of all that wet and cold but decides it’s his funeral. Favorite human turns to main slave when it looks like yellow man is settling in for the long haul. “We need a working sink. Jack’s here. Let him do it.”

“Fine,” main slave huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Could you?” he growls at yellow man, sounding a bit more disgruntled than pleading. Reaper approves.

“Sure. What’s going on with it?” Reaper sees flap a hand and favorite human starts putting some of the tools into it at random. They go through four of them before yellow man is satisfied with what she gives him and Reaper starts getting bored with this thing. So long as the wet and the cold goes away by the next time he feels the urge to lurk in the cabinets, he’s content.

“It’s leaking when we turn it on, but I don’t know where from,” main slave replies, standing up and trying to look like he could maybe be of help. Yellow man sticks his head out of the cabinet long enough to give main slave an indulgent smile, clearly not buying the act.

Favorite human seems to agree with Reaper that the fun part of the show is over. She gets up and hefts him into her arms. Reaper climbs up on to her shoulders and decides that yellow man has the situation well in hand, with or without any “help” that main slave is able to provide. He has an important nap to take. Or maybe he can find some cords to chew on.


	2. on the couch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a direct result of conversations we’ve had while playing Overwatch. In case you can’t tell, we ship Reaper76, McHanzo, and Gencio which makes it fun when you kill your character’s significant other or when they kill you. 
> 
> Get headshot as McCree by Hanzo: “Fucking hell. You are totally on the couch tonight.” Bounce Genji off a ledge as Lúcio: “Shit. I’m definitely on the couch tonight.” Sneak up on Soldier 76 (and his team) as Reaper and Death Blossom them all: “Definitely sleeping on the couch tonight.”
> 
> Which led to us discussing how that would actually turn out. So for your reading pleasure (and possibly some insight into our inner insanity), we give you the results of those discussions. With a slightly less homicidal reasons for ending up on the couch.
> 
> A note on timeline: the first section of this occurs sometime during Hanzo and Jesse’s final year of undergrad, so 4 years from the beginning of Repeat After Me. The second section…. Well, we have no clue; sometime before Hana graduates high school. The last section is seven years after the beginning of Repeat After Me.
> 
> And yes we spent the dog’s walk today figuring out the long term timeline of this universe.

Reaper stares at the door in disbelief as his favorite human starts closing it behind her. “Thanks again, guys,” she says, shouldering her giant bag—the one that hides all the fun cords. He will figure out how to open it, one day. No cord can hide from him. “I’ll be back for him on Monday.” She shuts it and doesn’t open it again, the sound of her footsteps getting progressively farther away. Is she not coming back? Is she leaving him here? Well, at least it isn’t the place with the needles and the cold metal things that prod him.

Reaper blinks at the door a few times before he turns around to survey his new domain. Hopefully his temporary new domain.

He slinks around the soft couch that looks like a good napping spot and stops in front of the giant windows that look straight into some trees—excellent! He can already see the hated squirrels darting through the branches and his tail starts twitching in anticipation. Their chittering tickles his ears and Reaper swivels them forward, not wanting to miss a single sound. He pads closer and reaches out a paw to test the thin barrier between him and a glorious hunt.

“You rip through that screen and the windows get closed for the weekend,” a voice rumbles behind him. Reaper spares the scruffy dog-ally a twitch of his ear but otherwise ignores his inconsequential noises. 

“I still do not understand why he must be here,” another voice says and that gets Reaper’s attention. He whips his head around and steps further into the room so he can see around a corner, making sure his every move looks confident. As well he should, since this is his territory now. The pervasive scent of the dumb dog is a non-issue; they had an arrangement back when they’d shared the big place. And that has always boiled down to Reaper being in charge. 

But this—this is unacceptable. Sure enough, the voice belongs to none other than arch nemesis. 

Reaper freezes as soon as arch nemesis comes into view and fixes him with his most unnerving stare. Arch nemesis sits hunched over a table piled high with books and lots of shred-worthy papers, a sleek warm whirring L-shaped slab at his elbow. Reaper wants to lick his lips but refrains to maintain his intimidating image. Warm whirring slabs should mean cords. Wonderful, twisty cords just waiting for him to sink his teeth into.

But his efforts to cow arch nemesis don’t seem to have much effect. Arch nemesis turns to stare right back at him with narrowed eyes, apparently unfazed. Further steps will be required.

“Because,” scruffy dog-ally says as he scoops Reaper up off the floor. Reaper twists in his arm and bites his wrist but he just starts scratching behind Reaper’s ears and, well. That’s acceptable. He rubs against the massage, relaxing into scruffy dog-ally’s hold and beginning a light purr. He can see arch nemesis shake his head through his blissfully slitted eyes and chalks up another mark in the steps required column. “Gabe’s got that conference in San Diego this weekend, and Sombra’s had this trip planned for months. She’s not leavin’ him alone for four days.”

“Why not?” Papers rustle and temptation shivers up Reaper’s spine. He opens his eyes to see arch nemesis twisting sideways in his chair, elbow crinkling a few of the pages on the table. “Is it not true that cats are supposed to be self-sufficient? I should think four days alone would not pose any hardship to one.”

“You have met this cat, right?” Scruffy dog-ally tilts his arms to pop Reaper’s head up as if displaying him to arch nemesis. Reaper swats at his ear in retaliation. He leans over to bite it next but scruffy dog-ally either anticipates him or gets lucky and drops Reaper gently back to the floor. “He’d blow up the damn house. But either way, my lil’ sister asked me to watch him and I ain’t sayin’ no to her. She probably won’t ask again.”

“Good,” arch nemesis mutters as he turns back to the table. Scruffy dog-ally brushes his shoulder as he walks by, pausing to lean over and press his face against arch nemesis’s cheek and Reaper is already bored with them. He decides now is as good a time as any to explore. 

He finds a water bowl, only marginally contaminated with canine slobber. His litter box sits in a nice corner, but then he gets distracted by a toy mouse that has the audacity to lay in his path. Reaper crouches and spends a very necessary several minutes preparing the optimal strike, hindquarters twitching and tail lashing back and forth. Then he pounces, rolling over the offending mouse and batting at it in a frenzy. He slaps it into the wall and rolls to a stop, casting a glance around to see if there are any witnesses.

Arch nemesis is staring at him, looking wholly unimpressed. Reaper returns his unblinking gaze, relaxing to lay back along the floor he now clearly owns. Arch nemesis scowls at him and turns back to his crinkly pages. Reaper yawns, satisfied with his double victory.

“Hey,” scruffy dog-ally says from further in the room, raising his voice to speak over the sudden sizzling sounds that tickle Reaper’s ears. “You said you’re puttin’ that away tonight, remember.” There’s a note of warning in his tone but Reaper is uninterested, deciding it is not directed at him.

“Yes,” arch nemesis grumbles. “I must finish this section first.”

Reaper yawns again, attention drifting. He levers himself to his feet and goes to investigate the next room. A giant fluffy bed sits on the floor in one corner and Reaper sniffs it. He gets an overwhelming whiff of dumb dog and makes a face. Then he hops up on the big human-sized bed in the middle of the room, finally locating the culprit himself. 

Dumb dog is sprawled out across the blankets, upside down as usual. Reaper swats him across the nose to offer a friendly hello and he jerks awake. Dumb dog’s eyes light up and he lunges forward, tripping over his long limbs. Reaper yowls and takes off to start a super fun game of chase.

He skids through the doorway with dumb dog hot on his heels, so Reaper leaps up onto the table to gain a little space. But he’d forgotten about all the crinkly pages and he skids across the surface, a cloud of paper billowing up around him as he scrambles for purchase. Reaper hops onto the warm whirring slab and it thankfully doesn’t slide, little buttons giving way under his paws as he circles a few times. 

An outraged shout of, “No!” startles him as arch nemesis comes charging back to the table. Reaper darts away from his hands, knocking over a stack of books as he goes. “Jesse,” arch nemesis growls as he tries to snatch up Reaper. Reaper slithers away and plows through another stack of papers to get to the other side of the table. 

“Let me get this off the burner, hang on. Then I got the cat,” scruffy dog-ally calls over a few clangs from much warmer side of the room. 

Reaper looks around at the piles of crinkly paper surrounding him. All pristine and ready to be chewed. Get the cat where? He’s perfectly fine here in this paper heaven, thank you. Unless scruffy dog-ally is taking him to the cords for the L-shaped slab. Which is unlikely.

Just as Reaper is deciding his plan of attack on paper heaven, scruffy dog-ally comes over to help arch nemesis box Reaper in, the traitor. Reaper decides to take his chances with the dumb dog and vaults off the table, sprinting towards the soft couch. Dumb dog follows, wheezing happily until he corners Reaper on the couch’s back. His tongue lolls out as he opens his mouth to pant and Reaper gives him a good-natured hiss.

The rustling noises start up again and Reaper leans over to glance at the table. The humans are picking up the pages and stacking them, although he’s not sure why they bother. Reaper can easily find them all where they are to chew on later.

“If they will do nothing but fight the entire weekend, how do you see this situation working?” arch nemesis snaps. 

“They shouldn’t the whole time,” scruffy dog-ally says, voice tight. “They lived together for a few years, might just take them a little while to remember that.”

“And what are we to do while we wait for them to get reacquainted?” Arch nemesis straightens, folding his arms across his chest. He then uncrosses them right away as he gestures at the warm whirring slab with a sharp sweep of his hand. “He erased entire pages of my paper, Jesse.”

Reaper extends a paw to poke as dumb dog’s slobbery nose. Dumb dog lunges, landing halfway up the couch, and Reaper leaps lightly onto the table on the end. The lamp wobbles as he brushes past it but doesn’t topple over. Disappointing.

“Maybe you should’ve put it away earlier.” Reaper can just make out scruffy dog-ally’s murmur as he contemplates his next plan of escape. 

“What was that?” arch nemesis snaps.

“Nothin’,” scruffy dog-ally says, straightening one last pile of papers. Reaper flicks an ear, evaluating. It looks like a very nice pile to roll in. “I’m sorry, honey. They should settle down before too long. Reaper’s never been here. Just goin’ to take him a bit of time. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Arch nemesis grumbles but follows scruffy dog-ally away from the table. Seeing a golden opportunity, Reaper leapfrogs over dumb dog and readies himself to jump up onto the tempting table again. But scruffy dog-ally turns at the last moment and shoos him away from the table. Then he picks up another mouse toy and tosses it into the next room. Reaper’s spine tingles with the need to chase and his tail starts swaying back and forth but he resolutely sits down and stares at scruffy dog-ally, making it clear he will not be distracted. He tells himself not to chase the toy, maintaining eye contact. 

Right up until scruffy dog-ally sighs and turns away. Then Reaper pounces after the mouse and somersaults over it. Once satisfied with its deathly stillness, Reaper gets up to explore the room a little more. He pauses at one corner of the human-sized bed as dumb dog reenters the room. But dumb dog ignores him and hops onto the big bed to resume his nap, also ignoring the dog-sized bed on the floor. Reaper continues his investigation. 

The far corner reveals the jackpot—a cord, hanging down behind a small table next to the human-sized bed. Reaper bats at it a few times to toy with it and strike fear into its heart as it sways back and forth, helpless between his paws. Then he gives in to the urge and sinks his teeth into the pliable rubber, tugging on it with a few sharp jerks of his head. 

The cord pulls down a little until it halts, arresting Reaper’s movements. Annoyed, he yanks harder. A black box attached to the end tumbles off the table onto the ground beside him but Reaper is unfazed. Most of the cord has come down with it. He flops against the floor for maximum comfort as he starts gnawing on the cord in earnest. 

Once it splits satisfyingly in several pieces, Reaper rolls over to bat overhead at them and watches the frayed ends of cords dance around. But even that gets boring after a while so he hauls himself to his feet and pads back into the big room. 

The two humans are making a lot of noise in the warm room with running water and echoing clinks so Reaper edges back to the table, hopping up onto one of the stacks of paper. He stretches out a paw to prod at the warm whirring slab but he is unceremoniously yanked off the table with hands that are wet, sudsy, and disgusting. 

“No,” scruffy dog-ally says and deposits Reaper onto the couch. He can see arch nemesis dart over to the table and begin restacking pages, clearly preparing it for Reaper’s next phase of attack. How considerate. “Honey, come on,” scruffy dog-ally says as arch nemesis sits back down and pulls the warm whirring slab back towards himself. “You promised you’d take a break tonight—“

“That was before the devil cat erased half of my paper,” arch nemesis snaps, glaring at the couch. Did Reaper make him that angry? He starts cleaning his face in satisfaction. “You may relax all you wish. I must return to work.”

“You’re goin’ to work yourself to death at this rate,” scruffy dog-ally grumbles, leaning against the wall with his back to Reaper.

“And perhaps you are not working hard enough,” arch nemesis says hotly, closing his mouth with a snap on the last word as his face turns red. Scruffy dog-ally jerks back, spine stiffening, but he doesn’t say a thing. 

Arch nemesis buries his face in his hands and takes a deep breath. Reaper tilts his head, fascinated with his discomfort. But before arch nemesis can open his mouth, scruffy dog-ally turns and scoops Reaper up off the couch. He heads into the smaller room and slams the door behind them.

Scruffy dog-ally leans back against the door, still holding Reaper to his chest. Reaper tolerates it for a few minutes while scruffy dog-ally runs his fingers through his soft fur and takes a few deep breaths. But then Reaper gets bored and snags a thumb between his paws, to better chew on it. Scruffy dog-ally chuckles a little. “Okay, point taken,” he mumbles, dropping Reaper gently onto the bed. 

Reaper flops over and begins grooming himself, sorting out all the fur the human ruffled. 

Scruffy dog-ally shoves dumb dog over and sits down on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. Dumb dog shifts over and then rolls back to curl around him. Reaper hisses at him when he gets too close, swatting at his tail. Dumb dog whuffs and picks up his head, turning to regard Reaper with a gleam in his eye. Reaper tenses, anticipation curling his tail.

“Knock it off, you two,” scruffy dog-ally sighs. Dumb dog twists back to look up at him with concern at his tone, resting his head on his lap. Easily distracted as usual, Reaper thinks scornfully.

Scruffy dog-ally runs his hand across dumb dog’s head for a while. Then he flops back onto the bed, legs still dangling off the side. Reaper is not about to pass that up and trots over, curling up on top of his barrel chest. It dips beneath him as scruffy dog-ally lets out a huff of air, reaching up to rub at Reaper’s ears again. Then he pushes Reaper off back onto the blankets. “Nice try,” he says, pulling himself upright again. “But I need to…” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I should study.”

Reaper lays down and starts grooming his face, unconcerned. 

Scruffy dog-ally rounds the bed and stops short, staring at the floor. Reaper rolls over to see what he finds so interesting. All he can see is the little box that used to be on the table and the frayed pieces of cord, no longer exciting. But then Reaper’s ears perk up, a new idea occurring to him. Maybe he can find where the end that goes behind the bed disappears to—

Scruffy dog-ally gets down on a knee and picks up the box and cord pieces, wrapping a hand around the remaining end of cord and yanking it until it comes free from behind the bed. Boring. 

He then holds them up in Reaper’s line of sight, as if showing the items to him. Reaper goes back to bathing. 

“This is you, I take it,” scruffy dog-ally says, shaking the cord pieces. Reaper pauses to give him one slow blink. Scruffy dog-ally scowls back. “Thought I might’ve missed one.” He tosses the box and cords into a drawer and slams it shut, the wooden frame rattling. “Why are you always dead set on makin’ Hanzo want to skin you alive, huh?” 

Reaper rolls over and stretches out to his full length, kneading the blankets. Why is the human dead set on asking stupid questions? Because it’s fun, obviously.

Scruffy dog-ally sighs and grabs a thick book off a shelf, throwing himself down on the bed with his back against the wall. He props it open against his knees and starts glaring at it while dumb dog gets up, walks over to him, and lays down against his side. Reaper watches scruffy dog-ally start absently petting dumb dog for a minute before he curls up for his own nap.

Reaper wakes up when the door creeps open a few inches. He stretches from his nap spot and tilts his head just enough to see arch nemesis on the other side. 

“No, Hanzo,” scruffy dog-ally says in the cold voice Reaper usually only hears from main slave at his angriest. Reaper finds himself up and in search of higher ground before he even realizes he’s moving. The tall wooden box with drawers is the highest thing he sees, so he leaps for it from his spot on the bed. He hears something fall as he scrambles on top of it, backing all the way into the corner.

Once he’s as secure as he can get, Reaper reevaluates the room. Arch nemesis stands frozen at the barely open door. Scruffy dog-ally hasn’t looked up from his book, jaw clenched. “You can stay out there. I ain’t sharin’ space with you tonight. Work all night, for all I care. Just leave me alone.”

“Fine,” arch nemesis says in the same tone. He wedges himself more firmly into his corner as the door slams shut.

Scruffy dog-ally throws his book in the general direction of the shelf before standing. He crouches down to pet dumb dog before approaching Reaper’s safe spot. Scruffy dog-ally extends a hand towards him but doesn’t move further.

Reaper looks at the hand, trying to decide whether he should attack it or ask for pets. Pets make everything better and dumb dog already got his. First, even. That’s not acceptable.

“It’s alright,” scruffy dog-ally’s voice rumbles softly, no hint of main slave’s icy coldness left. “Nothin’s goin’ to happen to you, I promise. Sombra’d roast me alive if it did.”

Reaper slinks out of his corner toward the hand. He head butts it as hard as he can first, not ready to be so easily soothed. Especially since he’d checked on dumb dog first.

Scruffy dog-ally smiles tiredly and picks him up off the wooden box with drawers. He rubs his head a few times before depositing Reaper back on the bed. Reaper swats at dumb dog to get him to move. The spot dumb dog is in is obviously the best sleep spot, and Reaper needs it. He curls into a tight ball but keeps an eye on the door, in case arch nemesis returns, until sleep overcomes him.

When he wakes again the room is dark and Reaper glances around, disgruntled. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what woke him. Dumb dog has retreated to his bed on the floor, but scruffy dog-ally is stretched out on the bed under the blankets. He turns over as Reaper watches, jostling the bed again. 

Arch nemesis is nowhere to be seen. Reaper tilts his head over backward to get a look at the door—still firmly shut. Good. He curls back up and tries to go back to sleep.

Scruffy dog-ally twists around and almost kicks him in the head. Reaper yowls his displeasure and smacks at the foot-shaped lump under the blanket. It pulls away as scruffy dog-ally rolls over again. Reaper inches closer and swats at it again. Scruffy dog-ally sits upright and glares at him. Reaper stares back, unimpressed. He tries to make it clear that scruffy dog-ally started it.

Scruffy dog-ally shifts his scowl to the door and heaves a deep gust of breath. Then he stands up and yanks the top blanket out from under Reaper, making him tumble to the floor. Reaper collects himself and smooths down his back fur, affronted. How dare he mess up such a meticulous grooming job!

Reaper follows scruffy dog-ally to the door and out into the big room, hoping to get another swat in for revenge. But he stops when scruffy dog-ally approaches the couch. Arch nemesis is stretched out across it, one arm curled beneath his head. He looks like he’s asleep. He also looks vaguely miserable.

Reaper needs to take a moment to appreciate the visage.

But then scruffy dog-ally ruins it when he climbs over arch nemesis, wedging himself in between the other human and the back of the couch. 

“Jesse?” arch nemesis jolts awake. “What are you—“

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep.” Scruffy dog ally tugs the blanket he brought over both of them, throwing an arm around arch nemesis as he does so.

“But,” arch nemesis keeps talking as he twists around to put his back to the room. “Jesse, I am sorry—“

“Tomorrow,” scruffy dog-ally mumbles shifting around. “Sleep now.”

“Why are you out here?” arch nemesis whispers into scruffy dog-ally’s chest where he’d sprawled.

“Can’t sleep without you,” scruffy dog-ally says, sounding mostly asleep. “And I’m done tryin’. Go back to sleep.”

“You are a sap,” arch nemesis says, but his voice is fond. He stretches up kissing scruffy dog-ally’s cheek and cuddles into the warmth he brings. Reaper turns his back on the scene, utterly disgusted with this turn of events. There goes his human furnace, however squirmy it turned out to be. 

He trots back into the smaller room and hops up onto the human size bed, which at least he can now claim in its entirety as his hard won property. Right up until dumb dog’s head pops up over the side, evaluating whether the human-induced mini-earthquakes are over. Dumb dog leaps up and sprawls out across the center, producing his own not-inconsiderable body heat. 

Reaper purrs in the back of his throat. This will do. And bonus, no witnesses. He curls up against dumb dog’s side and settles in for some uninterrupted sleep.

\--

Reaper startles awake when the door slams open and good old main slave stomps through. He’d been enjoying a nap in his old favorite spot atop the tall shelves in the big room of the big house and he’s reluctant to leave it. Favorite human hasn’t yet put up any tall places for him in their new domain, though she makes noises as if she intends to. But right now Reaper is taking full advantage of his old stomping grounds.

Especially since it’s not just the perches. Here he has the full and undivided attention of main slave as often as he can steal it, and the presence of yellow man and his perfect ear scratches is an enormous bonus. If he can’t have favorite human, Reaper will happily take these two. Much better than having to put up with arch nemesis for days.

Except main slave seems…enraged is probably the best word for it. He shouts into his phone and Reaper flicks an ear, setting his head back down. He doesn’t need to start paying attention until main slave stops yelling and gets quiet, using his patented ‘I’m too angry to yell’ voice. Then it’s time to run for cover. 

Main slave throws his phone at the couch with a muffled thump. He turns around and apparently notices Reaper for the first time. “Right,” he says, taking a deep, calming breath. “You’re back. Let’s get you fed, huh?”

Reaper jumps lightly onto main slave shoulders when he comes close enough to his perch. This, right here, is one reason he earned the title of main slave. He’s the perfect height for a smooth dismount from this perch, without making a crater in the floor. That, and he tends to bring home most of the fun feeding toys.

Reaper watches him fill the toy shaped like a flying saucer, one of the best. He’s pleased main slave remember to crouch down while keeping his upper body perfectly level to maintain the shoulder perch. Just before he can finish, Reaper hops down to the floor and bats at his hand to encourage him to go faster. Then he pounces on the flying saucer, happily slapping it end over end as pieces of delicious kibble pop out and scatter for him to chase. This is the best way to eat.

But as he swats the saucer across the hard floor, Reaper notices main slave doing one of his odd things. He goes from window to window, closing and locking each. Then he goes to the bench by the back door and drags it over, blocking the door off. 

Reaper stops with one paw extended and sits up, staring at main slave as he moves to the front door and starts dragging a chair in front of it. 

Reaper loses interest, the siren call of kibble that needs chasing winning his attention. Maybe this is just some new routine? Main slave hasn’t done anything like this in the past few days, that Reaper is aware of. Then again, yellow man had been here then and he is not here now. Does that make a difference? 

Oh, well. Whatever the reason, it’s not nearly as important as the last few pieces of food stuck in the flying saucer. Time to focus.

Reaper gives the saucer one last slap and it ricochets under a chair, dispensing those stubborn pieces as it clatters away. Success! He gobbles them up and slinks around the couch, swatting at main slave’s pant leg as he goes. Then he pauses and looks back. Main slave is slumped against the cushions facing the box with moving pictures, a glass dangling from his fingers that sloshes with pretty gold liquid. 

It would not take much effort to bat it out of his hand and chase it across the floor. Then lap up the tasty amber liquid as a reward.

Reaper crouches, eyes fixed on the sparkling glass as the light fractures through it. His tail sweeps across the floor and he readies his legs to send him flying—but then main slave picks up the glass and holds it above his head. Reaper glances up, startled. Main slave is giving him a hard stare.

Reaper sits down and starts cleaning his tail like nothing happened.

Main slave sets the glass down on the table next to him and leans forward, dropping his face in his hands. Reaper blinks at him and then takes the opportunity given him. He hops up onto the end table and shoves his face in the glass. He likes this drink, but for some reason the humans don’t like him drinking it. Which of course makes it taste even better.

Reaper is barely two laps in when main slave snags him off the table and sets him in his lap. Annoyed, Reaper digs his claws into the thighs beneath him until main slave starts massaging his ears. Reaper can’t help the purr that rumbles in his chest when main slave gets just the right spot. But just as he’s really getting used to the blissful scratching, a key scrapes in the back lock.

Then the door rattles in the frame as it jams against the bench in the way, barely open an inch. 

“Really, Gabe?” yellow man’s voice shouts from outside it. Main slave doesn’t react, and for a moment Reaper thinks his inferior human hearing didn’t catch the noise. But then he takes a measured sip from the forbidden glass and renews his petting with deliberate motions. He’d heard. Yellow man pounds on the door. “What, you’re not even going to talk to me now?”

Main slave sets the glass back down and stands, taking Reaper with him. He stalks into the room with the sharp things and the fire and gets near the door without touching it. Reaper crawls up his arm to perch back on his shoulder as main slave crosses his arms. “Quit yelling, Jack,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

“Oh, will I? You’re the one that locked me out of the damn house!”

“I remember telling you I didn’t want to see you,” main slave says. Reaper takes stock of the icy calm in his voice and hops down onto the counter. He’s starting to think there’s a crossfire here he might want to get out of.

“I live here too now,” yellow man says, the gravelly quality of his voice coming through the wood of the door just fine. “I’ll sleep on the damn couch then if you’re still so pissed off.”

“The couch is too good for you,” main slave snaps. “You’ll figure something out.”

Reaper slinks along the counter and hops over the sink onto the windowsill. He looks out and sees yellow man, leaning one arm against the side of the house and resting his forehead against it. “Fuck you, Gabe,” he says, voice barely carrying through the glass. “You better not pull this shit when Hana gets back from camp.” Then he yanks the door shut and relocks it, ripping his key back out with an angry metallic screech. 

Reaper looks back when the room plunges into sudden darkness, then hops up to follow main slave as he methodically turns off the remaining downstairs lights. He goes about the usual nightly routine, Reaper following close at his heels. When main slave climbs into bed and yanks the covers up with too much force, Reaper leaps up with him. Main slave tries to cross his arms but Reaper slaps at his hands, flopping on top of his chest instead. 

Main slave lets out a weak chuckle but doesn’t dislodge him. A satisfactory sleeping perch.

Reaper wakes to an empty bed in the morning, twisted up in the sheets in an excellent little nest. He picks up his head and blinks in the morning sunlight, standing up to arch his back. He stumbles down the stairs to follow the sounds of clattering and clanking coming from the room with the sharp things and the fire. He’s hoping for a full food toy.

Reaper enters the room just as the screen door slams and he blinks at it in confusion. The bench is back against the wall next to the door, where it should be. The back door itself stands open. Nobody entered, so someone must have gone out? Reaper leaps up onto the windowsill to survey the back yard.

He can see main slave walking out with two mugs in his hands, making for the swingy rope bed in the back corner. Yellow man is stretched out across it with a blanket spread over him. He sits up carefully and makes room for main slave to join him, accepting one of the mugs. Did he sleep there? Humans are so strange. 

Then Reaper spots the flying saucer waiting patiently for him in the middle of the floor and he loses all interest in the baffling intricacies of human behavior right away. 

\--

Reaper stares at the door. Favorite human had closed it some time ago and it remained firmly shut with no approaching footsteps. This new place is interesting but, as far as Reaper can tell, unoccupied. It’s small but with lots of fun nooks and crannies, most of which are hard for him to get into.

And most of which smell like the mischievous rat. He must be here somewhere. And that means playtime. 

Reaper loses interest waiting at the door and searches the small rooms that are open, all of which have wide hallways and low counters that are super easy to jump up to. There are a few doors that are closed; Reaper picks the one that smells the most like the mischievous rat and paws at it idly. It’s far more interesting than the toys favorite human scattered across the floor before leaving. 

As he contemplates how to get into the tantalizing closed off rooms, the big door behind him creaks open. Reaper twists around to look over his shoulder and pops to his feet, trotting straight over to the chair that wheels into the room and the man sitting in it. He meows loudly to get his attention and jumps straight into his lap.

Music man startles, chuckling as he runs a hand over Reaper’s sleek fur. Reaper arches into the head rub, purr rumbling loudly in his chest. Music man rests an arm on the side of his moving chair, his face worn and a little…sad? Unacceptable. Reaper purrs louder and rams his head into his chin.

Music man laughs weakly, his fun hair swinging around his head. Reaper reaches out a paw and slaps at one of the tendrils. “Hey,” he says, voice that nice lilting sounds that Reaper likes to listen to. But today he just sounds tired. “I forgot Sombra was dropping you off, man. How’s it going?”

Reaper yowls in response. 

“Glad to hear it,” music man says, taking his hand away and moving them further into the room. Reaper could get used to this. “Just make sure you stay out of my stuff and we’ll do great.” He pauses to tap one finger on Reaper’s nose, tone sly. “I know all about your cord chewing ways.”

Reaper flops over in his lap and sticks a leg in the air, licking it clean. He feels like it conveys his message. Cords are meant to be chewed, end of story. And really, closed doors are just a challenge that makes the cord chewing more satisfying.

“Genji?” music man calls as he wheels them into the kitchen. Reaper hops up onto the counter from his lap and lays down to observe. He knows there’s no one else here. But for some reason humans tend not to ask him for intel, as main slave would say. 

Music man opens the cold box, contemplates its contents, and closes it immediately. He wheels over to look down the short hall, turning back to give Reaper a frown. “Where is he, is he here?” he asks. Reaper blinks at him. Okay, maybe they do ask. He thinks music man is asking about fun grass man, but he has no idea where anyone is, so he starts bathing his face.

“Okay, you don’t know,” music man sighs. “Thanks anyway.”

He rolls down the hall and opens one of the forbidden doors. Reaper leaps to his feet so fast he almost falls off the counter—gracefully, of course. He runs after the chair and darts into the room. This one must not be that forbidden. Music man doesn’t throw him right back out. 

It contains a nice human-sized bed, a big wooden box with drawers crammed in a corner, and a cage. Reaper pads over and sticks his nose up against the wires. Mischievous rat pops his head up and stares at him, challenge clear. Reaper crouches, tail flicking back and forth with his gaze fixed on the cage. 

“No, hang on,” music man says, rolling over to the drawers. Reaper reluctantly makes way so the chair doesn’t flatten his tail. “Let me let Haku out before either of you start anything. You two are going to get along, right?” Reaper blinks at him. Of course he’s going to get along with the mischievous rat. Reaper loves him. He’s such a devious little thing.

Music man starts putting a few things away so Reaper sits and stares at him, willing him to move faster. He wants to play.

But then music man pauses, hand resting on an open drawer. “Seriously, man,” he says. “Where is Genji? He promised he’d be there, and then he just skips the show without a word?” He frowns at the drawer. Reaper tilts his head, not liking the anger that’s seeping into his tone. “I mean, when I say I was pissed, you can believe that’s an understatement. There were producers there, man. This was a huge show! And he knew that. He knew this was huge. And then he just doesn’t show? That’s weird. And no texts, no calls.” Reaper hops back up into his lap, ramming his head into music man’s hand. He gives one halfhearted pet before letting out a sigh. “Now I’m just worried. Where the hell is he?”

Reaper yawns, attention already wandering. He fixes his eyes on the cage again. 

Music man leans over and unlatches the cage door. Mischievous rat shoots out and Reaper throws himself after in hot pursuit. Reaper is pleased that music man laughs a little before devoting his full attention to the chase.

They clamber after each other throughout the whole place, occasionally pausing to trade friendly nips and swipes. Mischievous rat wedges himself into a tight corner where Reaper can’t follow and Reaper plants himself at the opening, tail whipping back and forth. The little creature is laughing at him, he can tell. 

He spares one ear twitch to follow music man as he rolls over to a box and starts fiddling with it, producing soft strains of music. He makes a mental note to investigate later, since that sometimes means cords. But otherwise his full attention is devoted to prying mischievous rat out of his hiding spot. That is, until the big door to the outside world slams open and a whirlwind darts inside.

Reaper sits back, startled, and mischievous rat shoots out of his corner and scrambles up fun grass man’s pant leg. Fun grass man leans down to boost mischievous rat onto his shoulder but otherwise makes a beeline for music man.

“I am so sorry,” he says, tumbling to a halt a few feet in front of music man’s moving chair. Reaper pads over and rubs against his leg as a friendly hello. Fun grass man gives him an absent pat on the head, but his focus is on music man’s stony face. “I am the worst human ever. My phone is beyond dead and I got stuck at work and I knew you were probably worried and I missed your big show and I am the absolute worst. Did I mention I am sorry? Because I am. I will sleep on the couch tonight—no, I will live on the couch if you want me to. I am the worst.” Fun grass man’s face is a study in misery and he looks like he could keep talking for another hour without breath, so Reaper swats at his leg to entertain himself since he’s being ignored.

“You are the worst,” music man agrees, folding his arms across his chest. “But mainly since you haven’t told me where you’ve been.”

Fun grass man sinks to his knees and gives Reaper a nice head rub. Much better. “Chef called me in to work and I got stuck there.” 

“I’m really considering the couch, not gonna lie.” Music man still has his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“I know. I agree. Have I mentioned I am so incredibly sorry?” The fun grass man sounds miserable.

“You have,” music man says evenly. Reaper approves of his unimpressed stare. “I thought you told them about this weeks ago?”

“Yes, I did,” fun grass man goes on, folding his legs beneath him and hunching his shoulders. Mischievous rat squeaks in displeasure and has to scramble for a better foothold. Reaper’s ears perk up at the noise but fun grass man’s hand stills heavily on his back, preventing him from leaping up onto his shoulders himself. Unfair. “Chef himself called—“

“Genji! They do this to you all the time. And you knew tonight mattered,” music man cuts him off, still sounding angry. Reaper squirms out from underneath fun grass man’s hand. He rubs against music man’s legs, trying to make the angry sound go away. Main slave sounds angry all the time, not music man.

“I know. I declined to come in. This was my first day off in weeks, and it was your show. But he was down three sous with this flu going around. He promised me it would only be for a few hours. I thought I had time. I closed the doors to keep your stuff safe and texted Sombra to just drop Reaper off in the main room. Then, I got to work and chef himself fell victim to it. I still would have left if there was anyone else.” Fun grass man makes a face. “It was only me and a few line cooks straight out of school. I had to run the kitchen myself.” He shifts a little closer to the moving chair on his knees, still looking mournful. Mischievous rat takes advantage of his proximity and leaps from his shoulder onto the chair, clambering up to nest atop music man’s head. 

Music man somehow manages to still look severe with his new accessory. “I’m still thinking hard about that couch option.”

“I would not blame you,” fun grass man says. Reaper takes advantage of his distraction to climb up into his lap and flop over. Fun grass man starts petting him with absent strokes and Reaper honestly can’t tell what’s so terrible about this situation. Petting solves everything. 

Music man seems to be having trouble maintaining his strict expression and lets his shoulders slump. Now he just looks tired. “Why didn’t you call?”

“This part you will not believe,” fun grass man says. “It rang right before I was about to take a break and call you. One of the cooks picked it up, thinking it was hers. I must have left it by her station when Sombra texted me before. She was working with something slimy, I guess. She slipped and dropped it in one of the deep fryers. A deep fryer!” He shakes his head. “I do not even believe it myself.”

That startles a laugh out of music man. “Are you for real right now?”

Fun grass man nods solemnly. “The realest.” Reaper bites his thumb when his distraction interrupts the petting. Fun grass man looks down at him as if he’d forgotten Reaper is there, unbelievable. He starts scratching Reaper’s ears with a vigor and Reaper forgives him. “I really am so sorry, Lúcio,” he says, still staring down at Reaper. “I know tonight was very important for you.

Reaper squawks as he is suddenly displaced, flailing a little on the floor to right himself. He smooths down his ruffled fur and looks back. Music man has pulled fun grass man up into a tight hug, faces buried into each other’s shoulders. Mischievous rat struggles to maintain balance on top of music man’s head. Reaper can barely make out the sounds as music man murmurs, “You’re cute when you ramble.”

“I am not rambling,” fun grass man pulls back, making an affronted face. 

“Yeah, you are,” music man laughs. He tugs and fun grass man gets to his feet. “Come on, babe. Let’s hit the sack. I’m tired, and I have no idea how you’re still upright.”

Fun grass man grimaces, sobering immediately. “I really will sleep on the couch—“

“Nope,” music man cuts him off, looking up at him with a tired smile. “You’re coming with me. Reaper isn’t going to make up for the difference in warmth, anyway.”

“Ah,” fun grass man nods sagely, walking after him into the room with the bed. “You are just using me for my body heat, I understand.”

Reaper follows them in and watches as they place mischievous rat in his cage. He’s not sure why the little creature has to live in there at night, but he suspects it has something to do with his deviousness. Reaper is just glad no one tries to do the same to him. He has half a mind to try opening the cage himself so they can keep playing, but that tends to get him locked out of rooms. Maybe tomorrow.

He hops up onto the edge of the bed for a nap before his traditional middle of the night patrol. He feigns complete unconsciousness and digs in to maintain his spot when the humans climb in themselves and fun grass man tries to shift him out of the way with a foot. It’s Reaper’s spot, he got there first. 

Fun grass man gives up and turns over to face music man. “How did the show go?” His voice is thick with exhaustion now that the rambling has run out.

“Great,” music man mumbles. “Might get signed soon, from what they were all saying. I’ll tell you more tomorrow when we’re not both sleep zombies.”

Fun grass man hums before pressing a kiss to music man’s forehead. “I am very proud of you and I love you.”

“Aw, babe,” music man murmurs, wrapping an arm around fun grass man and pulling him closer. “Love you too.”

Reaper swats at all the feet he can reach to get them to stop making noise and rolls over to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeartofDarkness123: I know El already replied, but really, you’re not stupid and the mental image of Jack in the yellow hat is golden. Reaper names everyone he comes across. He usually takes time to actually pick out something unique, but the first time Reaper met Jack, he wasn’t expecting him to stick around so he went with hair color to name him. And Reaper is just stubborn enough to not change it.
> 
> MyOwnCharacterInEverything: Yeah, this is about a year or year and a half after the end of Repeat After Me, and we all know that one isn’t anywhere near done yet.
> 
> MasterChachki: It’s Reaper’s journal, and he is not big on sharing. We might be able to talk him into allowing him an interlude eventually.
> 
> By the way, there needs to be more Gencio in the world.
> 
> Oh and if I haven't said it lately, thanks for all the comments. We have the best readers.


	3. the acquisition of main slave and favorite human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Reaper’s take on Gabe bringing him home for Sombra way back in like Chapter 2 of Repeat After Me.

Thirteen stretches out along his perch in the glass room and yawns, basking in the comfort. It’s the highest lounging spot and thus his by right. He won it easily; he’s twice the size of most of his siblings, after all. Not to mention he kept all of them fed after the evil human with the greasy hair dumped the lot of them behind that big smelly box. He’s not sure why they bothered fighting him for the perch in the first place, but he likes their spunk. 

He tilts his head over the edge to watch them attack the colorful mice scattered across the floor and huffs. He doesn’t like their tactics, that’s for sure. None of them are paying attention to the space above them. Unacceptable. He taught them better than that. Oh well, time for another lesson.

Thirteen descends from his perch on near-silent paws, taking well-deserved pride in his stealth. It’s what kept them all alive when they lived behind the big nasty box on the cold pavement strip between the high brick walls, however brief a time it was. He’s certainly not upset about the change of scenery, even if the lady who picked them up had done nothing but make obnoxious cooing noises and petted them too hard. Then she’d abandoned them too, to get poked and prodded on the cold metal tables. But they’d all wound up here, with free food and clean water and more toys than the imagination can fathom. And a fantastic lack of stink. 

The glass walls even offer entertainment. People walk by all day, pointing and laughing as they watch Thirteen and his siblings play. And if there’s one thing Thirteen loves, it’s an audience. 

He takes stock of the small crowd now as he crouches down on the lowest platform. A few small humans crouch almost eye-level with the floor, giggling as Thirteen’s siblings surround the same mouse. A few women stand behind them, all of them giving the man a few feet away a wide berth. Thirteen glances at him and is surprised to see he’s the one the man’s watching. Most humans are too distracted by his siblings’ bright colors and smaller forms to pay attention to him. 

But the man, twice as big as the other humans and decked out in dark colors just like Thirteen, has his eyes fixed on him. Thirteen’s tail curls in anticipation. Excellent, time to put on a show.

He watches his siblings wrestle over the red mouse and readies himself to pounce, tail twitching back and forth. None of them are even aware he’d come down, all focused on their own goal. Thirteen wiggles his hips, waiting for the right moment to strike, and then—he leaps into the fray! His siblings scatter in all directions and Thirteen darts back and forth, making sure to swat each one of them. They should know better than to let down their guard, even in a nice place like this. It’s his job to remind them.

Satisfied that they’re all properly reprimanded, Thirteen pounces onto the red mouse they’d left behind. But he misjudges the distance, still off-balance from his latest growth spurt that left his legs long and gangly. He somersaults end over end before he can right himself. Oh well. He pretends he’d done that on purpose and hops back onto the red mouse, slapping it around a few times before sinking his teeth in to claim his prize. 

But just as he’s settling in to gnaw the tail off, the big door in the wall opens. Thirteen’s instantly on alert, pivoting towards it. The lady with the talons on the ends of her fingers walks in, followed by the big dark man. Thirteen eyes them warily, spitting out the mouse toy in case he needs to attack. 

The talon-fingered lady sits down beside him and starts a blissful scratching behind his ears. Thirteen flops over and shoves his head into her hand, a purr rumbling up from his chest. Her head scratches are the absolute best, her nails are perfect. The new stranger crouches down beside her. Thirteen tries to stay alert and keep an eye on him even in the face of the best head scratches ever.

“This is Thirteen,” the talon-fingered lady says.

The stranger makes a face and asks, “Thirteen?” He stretches out one hand and extends a finger to Thirteen to sniff with slow motions.

“We tend to just number the kittens, especially when they come in as a big group,” talon-fingered lady says. “We keep the names of older cats that come to us, but there’s not much point for the younger ones. They usually don’t stay long, and everyone likes naming their own kitten.” She pauses to give Thirteen a fond little pat, though he barely notices as he investigates the stranger’s finger. “Thought this one might be here longer, though. Not everyone likes a black cat.”

Thirteen decides the offered finger is acceptable and bats at it once before rolling to his feet and pouncing on it. The stranger laughs, even as talon-fingered lady reaches out to grab him. Thirteen yowls and swats at her, bad lady. He’s only playing. If he weren’t, everyone would know it.

“It’s fine,” the stranger says, waving her back. Another point in the stranger’s column, Thirteen decides. He wraps both paws around the stranger’s thumb and draws it into his mouth, chewing on it lightly. “Pretty sure he’s just playing,” the stranger continues, wearing a little smile. Good human, he gets it.

The strangers wiggles his fingers where they’re pinned against Thirteen’s chest. Thirteen jumps back, startled at the odd sensation, before pouncing on the hand again. This is an acceptable game. Thirteen approves, even if the talon-fingered lady still looks concerned. What does she know? This is the best.

She at least lets them play, watching them as she says, “Someone found him and his siblings behind a dumpster, looked like they’d been dumped there. Luckily, whoever it was waited until they were old enough to eat solid food or they wouldn’t have had a chance.”

Thirteen scoffs, even as he leans into the hand the stranger is now using to rub his head. He would have been fine, and he would have found a way to save his siblings too.

“We think they’re a little over two months old,” she goes on. “At least, that’s based on his siblings’ sizes. Looking at just him, we’d probably guess closer to three or four. He’s had all his shots, so far. And he’s been fixed. But obviously you’ll want to get him checked out by your own vet. That is, assuming you want to take him.”

The stranger wraps his hands around Thirteen’s middle and picks him up slowly. Thirteen stares him down, not exactly sure what he’s looking for. The stranger just watches him, rubbing his fingers up and down his back with one hand as he curls the other arm underneath him. Thirteen sticks out a paw and presses it against the stranger’s nose. The stranger huffs out a laugh but doesn’t try to dislodge Thirteen’s paw.

Yes, this big dark man will do perfectly fine for a main slave. Thirteen approves. He belongs to Thirteen now.

“Yeah, I’ll take him,” new main slave says, standing up with Thirteen still cradled in his arms. Thirteen takes advantage of the high elevation to survey his surroundings with approval. But then he looks up and spies an even better vantage point. So he climbs up out of main slave’s arms and perches on his shoulders.

This. This is the perfect perch. Thirteen surveys his glass box kingdom with pleasure until he’s unceremoniously yanked from the high shoulders by talon-fingered lady. Thirteen grumbles, swatting at her hands. But she doesn’t let go, outrageous. Instead, insult of insults, she shoves him into a plastic box and shuts the door. Unacceptable! He yowls in protest.

Main slave’s face appears in the door. He shoves his fingers in through some of the little openings. Thirteen knows it’s a distraction, but pounces anyway. Fingers may be the greatest new toy ever.

But the fingers pull away and Thirteen huffs. Then, with a stomach-lurching wrench, the plastic box lifts into the air and he yowls again. What’s going on? What are they doing to him?

Thirteen plants his feet and tries to stay vigilant as the box swings through the air. Finally, it stops swaying and sets down against something soft. But he can’t see anything through the insufficient opening in this stupid plastic prison. Where did his big glass room go? Where are his siblings? Where are they taking him? He can feel movement start up again, paired with a low humming noise, but at least he’s not swinging wildly through the air now. 

He settles in to wait. As long as they’re moving, he can be patient. But every time the movement stops, he screeches and hopes it makes someone let him out. Seriously, what good are slaves with opposable thumbs if they leave you locked in a tiny plastic box?

After what feels like forever, both the motion and the humming stops. Thirteen tenses, waiting for the next change. Then what he’d thought was a weird-looking wall just outside his prison’s door opens and light spills in, and main slave’s face appears at the bars. Thirteen blinks at him.

“If I take you out, are you going to run?” main slave asks, reaching for the prison door. Thirteen stares him down. He’s not promising anything until he knows where he’s being dragged next. Main slave shrugs and opens the little door, reaching in to rub Thirteen’s ears. Thirteen can’t help it and starts purring. He pushes his head further into main slave’s hand and leans on it. Yes, good human.

Main slave moves his hand and Thirteen flops over onto his face. Bad human.

Before he can right himself, main slave reaches back in and pulls him out of the plastic prison. Thirteen twists around and tries to wriggle free but the strong hands pin him in place. So he settles into main slave’s arms with a disgruntled huff. He sinks his teeth into the finger closest to his mouth. And unlike earlier, this time he’s not playing. He bites down as hard as he can.

Main slave just chuckles and pulls his hand from Thirteen’s mouth, flicking him on the nose. Fine. Thirteen can wait to see where they’re going now. The method of transport has certainly improved at least.

Then main slave shifts him to one side and opens up a heavy door. Thirteen twists his head around, trying to take in as much of this strange domain as possible. He gets the impression of wood and a glorious number of high perches before he finds himself falling. Thirteen flails until he flops down on a lap. He yanks his claws back in and looks up, waiting to see what this new person will do.

When a hand comes up to gently pet him, he stretches out his legs, arches his back, and tries to get settled. He kneads at the arm under him while the other continues to rub at his head. He approves.

“He’s your responsibility now,” main slave says. Thirteen barely pays him any attention, though. The scratching is just too good. He’ll figure out what his responsibility is later. He circles around and gets comfortable, reveling in the glorious head scratches. This human has nails almost just like talon-fingered lady. It feels so good. 

He spends some time basking in the warmth of the lap, the spine-tingling head rub, and the loud rumble of his own purr. Eventually he decides he should refocus. If this human ends up staying, he needs to evaluate. Though if all her pets are like this, she’s off to a good start.

He hears main slave’s voice echo from outside the room as he yells, “Now get out here and help me unload the car!” Thirteen hadn’t even noticed him leave.

The directive had clearly been meant for the new human, but she stays where she is and maintains her petting. Thirteen looks up and sees her staring back down at him, her full attention on him. Fantastic head rubs? Ability to ignore other annoyances and devote sole focus to him? Mischief sparkling in the eyes of a kindred spirit? Thirteen decides on the spot that this is his favorite human. She is clearly the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos. We love them all.
> 
> To everyone who thought Gabe was a jerk in the last chapter for locking Jack out, you never asked what Jack did. Believe me, he deserved and Gabe warned him. Jack just didn’t take the warning seriously.


End file.
